Two Sets of Eyes

I am in the news capital of the world -- Cable News Network's Atlanta Headquarters. Newspaper clutter the desks and the phones clutter the ears. Cameras are rolling and televisions are never off. Life in the breaking news/live television world is never mundane as average men and women morph into writing machines who only break to refresh a webpage. The only empty, quiet space is the dining center, since no one bothers to eat away from their desk. In this arena, blackberries and McCurdy systems are their gods, indispensible tools to survive in a dog-eat-news world. And I sit here in the wings of this news monster, getting paid to soak in what most people pay 12 dollars to experience. Except they do it through a tour behind glass windows. This is my job. This is my day.

I am in a second-rate cable news network in a system with only three tiers. Rupert Murdoch's Fox News Corporation obliterates us in the ratings with conservative pundits who spew the latest facts on the last attractive white female under 25 gone missing. Bitter? No. But we seem democratic, I mean wishy-washy, I mean...unresolved. (Freud). Unable to decide between sticking to our holier-than-thou guts of hard journalism and softer entertainment news, we are lukewarm agents taking phone calls and writing stories to drown out the confusion of why we will forever be the Phil Mickelson to Daddy Tiger. I am in the shadows behind mounds of tape (when everything is digital) and pointing anchors to cameras (follow the red light). Working for a station you wonder if you would watch at home, you let the pretty anchor women (a lot of makeup, trust me) help you forget the worries. And then you do it all over again tomorrow. This is my job. This is my day.

Chapters

Another supposed post-it has marked an end and a new beginning for my world. Say goodbye to frat parties and frisbee on the Quad, life says. But I've never said hello. Rid yourself of facebook and immaturity, life decrees. But even it knows that we have so much time, what can we do but waste it? That is, until we relentlessly hold on to its last thread.

Thank goodness for the meaningful pictures of meaningless caps, hoods, and gowns a month ago because they all seem to be a blur, some nightmare of how the past finally became stamped as the past.

And now the future is for the taking, taking us on the ride of a lifetime that knows no bounds or ends or any other trite phrases commencement speakers google the day of their speech.

The reality for me is that these life chapters are superficial markers that makes us all pause. And reminisce on how not much has changed. My family is still loyal, overbearing, and hilarious. My interests and work have always been about the truth. My friends, though the faces have changed, have all remained laid-back, honest, and retain character that I envy.

So as I turned the page and head into the next chapter, what should I celebrate? A job? A new apartment? A car? They're almost as meaningless as the black robe collecting dust in my closet.

But to friends, family, and life. I'll drink to that. I did not even google that.